


My Dreams Will Not Leave Me

by Anonymous



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Attempted Murder, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death In Dream, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Knives, M/M, Murder, Nightmares, Not Beta Read, Other, Panic Attacks, Tarot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27618335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Yasuhiro Hagakure, regardless of circumstance, is murdered in his own subconscious. Once every few years, he has horridly vivid nightmares of death coming to embrace him. He just wants the nightmares to stop, so he can dream normally.Inspired by the idea that, in a Non-Despair, UTDP universe, Hiro dreams of being murdered like he is in demos.
Relationships: Hagakure Yasuhiro/Kuwata Leon
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43
Collections: Anonymous





	My Dreams Will Not Leave Me

_The Ultimate Clairvoyant awaited Sayaka, glistening knife in hand. He could finally get out of this godforsaken place. All he needed to do was kill the pop star._

_Each tick of the clock screamed in his ear. How was he supposed to focus on the door when all he could hear was that damn ticking? Hiro growled under his breath. Perhaps if he pressed his ear to the door, that would help?_

_The small, dainty steps of his future victim sounded through the halls. His heart began to quicken. His performance for the bear was incoming. The man glanced to his crystal ball. It would go just as he predicted... right?_

_Three sharp knocks slammed into his head and echoed through the rest of the room. Hagakure tried his best to cram the knife in his sweatpants. He brushed off his pants, standing up and clearing his throat. When he opened the door, the blue haired girl stared at him with fear._

_It took him a minute to realize the fright in her face. His telling heart screeched to a halt as it hit him like a brick. It was no miracle she'd figured him out so soon. It was no difficult task, after all, with how overly expressive he was. Rage boiled in him, directed mainly at himself._

_She knew. That had to be it. And now that she knew, there was no point in hesitating. Yasuhiro slammed the door and twisted the lock before tackling the idol to the ground. Maizono stared up at him, a new found intensity flaring in her usually gentle eyes._

_She snatched the blade from his pocket and stabbed right next to his hair. With a yelp, Hiro lept off of Sayaka. Footsteps echoed behind him as he sprinted madly to the bathroom. It was like fleeing from his debtors, and just as frantic and desperate._

_The fortune teller felt the singer slam the door as he pressed himself against it. Silent tears fell down his face with each fearful gasp of breath. The world around him began to spiral with each pounding knock._

_The thumping of the door echoed through the tiny restroom. Each slam to the door made his pupils shrink more in fear. He began to gasp for air, the walls seeming to close in around him. The wooden pounding was just background noise to his panic._

_The last thud he heard was him falling to the ground, pushed by the door. The vocalist lunged towards him, backing him into the corner. In a flash of movement, a sharp pain rippled through his middle. He wailed in agony._

_Magenta flowed from him as the blue haired girl dashed away. He coughed, feeling his body quake. He felt himself hollowing, and his eyes began to shut. Hagakure sobbed quietly, life dripping onto the ground from his lips._

_Hagakure just wanted to get out and rescue his beloved mother. But here he was, as stupid and foolish and unobservant as ever. But he hadn't succumb to the yakuza hunting him down, or been probed by aliens. A schoolgirl had murdered him._

_It was befitting of a fool. He'd been walking to his own demise, just like the card. If only he had more time to just_ _ **think**_ _._ _For once, he could've gotten out of his own damn mess._

_The harsh clatter of metal swam into his mind. His mind's eye took in the horse and skeleton that stood above him, both clad in iron armor. The flag of death flapped above. The eye sockets almost showed pity for the man below him._

_Hiro's mind began to slow as it ceased to function. His lover's voice echoed through the walls of his skull. The bright bathroom lights grew blurry above him. He had to embrace death. There was no use fighting the reaper and his stallion._

_The fortune telling clairvoyant didn't want to die. He had things to do, debts to pay off, and his boyfriend was still alive. He had retirement money he'd never get to use. He wasn't even middle aged. He had his whole life ahead of him!_

_With the last of his strength, he shook his head, the final denial of death. The bony hand blew away like dust._   
  


Yasuhiro's eyes snapped open to a barely illuminated popcorn ceiling. His own name was being whisper screamed beside him as he sat up. A calloused hand on his shoulder shook his body. Was this the afterlife? It's not what he expected, that's for sure.

Hagakure's breathing was shallow. It's what was to be expected after something so intense. Everything around him felt unreal. It was like some fabricated thing to torture him. No way was he in his own room, with an actual person beside him.

The ticking of the clock was louder then ever. His reckless actions replayed with each little clack of the hands. It was taunting him at this point. He'd knew he'd failed by now, no further insistence needed.

With hesitation and fear, he turned his head. In anticipation, Hiro began to gnaw at his nails, tasting the overly familiar herbs on his fingers. There'd surely be some horrific creaure beside him. Maybe Satan himself would be there to greet him. He opened one of his eyes, daring to peek at what might await him.

"Hiro! Holy shit man, ya' good?" Kuwata asked, relief flashing as they made eye contact. The fortune teller hadn't expected that. "You kept talking to yourself, and shaking, and freaking out."

Well, no shit Hagakure'd been freaking out. He'd just planned a _murder_ because he was in a _murder school_ because of their old school's mascot. And then Sayaka had just killed him. So why was he just here, in his bed with his beloved, when he was supposed to be dead?

The psychic man shook his head as he tore the digits from his mouth, dreads slapping Leon across his face. He felt the tears stream down his face, suddenly realizing that dried ones already covered his cheeks. He grabbed fistfuls of hair and whimpered to himself pitifully.

Yasuhiro had woken the musician up because of a stupid dream. The exact same dream that he'd had before, at that. Why did he have to be so goddamn annoying? Why didn't Hagakure just shut up, and stop thinking about something so ridiculous anyway?

Multicolored killer bears and apathetically homicidal models were fantastical. They'd never be real, even if he dreamt about them over and over. He was fretting over nothing, just like he always did. And, like his fretting always did, it bothered someone for no reason.

The tall man's face contorted painfully. A sob ripped from his throat as he pulled harder and harder at his scalp. The burn in his head muddled with the pounding of his skull. Why couldn't Hagakaure be less of a nuisance? Maybe his mom's exes were right in saying he was a stupid waste of space.

The pale hand on his shoulder rested atop one of the ones tangled in his wild locks. Hiro's hand was stilled and brought to his lap. His other hand followed, seemingly out of instinct. Kuwata's thumb stroked his the top of his shaking hand gently.

Leon spoke yet again, with his voice soft as his touch, "It's okay man." Hiro looked confusedly at how bizarrely uncharacteristic he was, "I'm right here. You're right here. We're at home."

Hiro shuddered an inhale as he scrubbed his eyes with his knuckles. Kuwata shuffled towards him, blue eyes fixated on his face and studying it with nervousness. He lifted a blanket over his boyfriend's shoulders. Hagakure exhaled relief at the warmth on his bare shoulders.

"You kept talkin' on and on about Sayaka? I think it was one of those dreams..." the former sports star continued, "Not one of the dirty ones! One of the murdery ones, y'know?" Hiro forced a huffy laugh and looked at him, confused.

Wasn't that just a bit too...?

Kuwata seemed to read his mind, "Look that's really weird and specific, I know!" He agreed, "But um... that's what you dreamt about, right?" He received a nod in response. "Just know you're not a bad person for killing people in your dreams. You're not dream you, ya' know?" He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, keeping a tight grip over his beloved's.

The statement seemed like it was for Leon more than it was for Hiro. Regardless, the clairvoyant almost felt better at his attempted murder. He wouldn't actually kill anyone in real life. Just like he wasn't a furry because he got railed by the Cookie Crisp wolf, he wasn't a bad person for this. As strange as it was, it was comforting.

"Besides the whole dream murder thing." He shook his head as the words tumbled from his mouth. " 'M sorry for waking you up, babe." Hagakure apologized, voice half broken. "We both have class tomorrow. You need to start sleeping more." The insomniac Hiro admitted.

The redhead looked him dead in the eyes. "I don't fucking care if you wake me up. I'm gonna help you no matter what, dammit." He leaned closer, "I want to be what you are to me," Leon stated with pleading eyes.

So he was doing it right? He * _was_ * good at comforting people after all? With all that his roommate had to deal with, the clairvoyant... helped? Dear god, he really wasn't properly equipped for handling praise, huh? He blinked his tears forward, emotion on the verge of overwhelming him.

What was this, the third cry of the night? He was beyond caring much at this point. The joy in the fortune telling man's heart was overwhelming and welcome. He shakily began to grin.

Hiro steadied his quivering lip by pressing it into his lover's. Kuwata let out a surprised, muffled noise, and Hagakure held his face between his palms. The two stayed like that for a bit, pushed together in a comfortable silence. The clock ticked on the other side of the room, asking for them to let go at 2:49 in the morning.

The taller man slowly unlocked their lips, holding the vocalist to his chest. Leon hugged him back, caressing his back. The tsking of the clock grew irritated. Yasuhiro smiled into his boyfriend's shoulder.

Leon slowly pulled them both back down. The softness of the pillow held the both of them as they latched onto each other. Hiro closed his eyes, comfort washing over him. As his long fingers twisted in the soft red of his lover's locks, a sense of peace flowed through him.

Just like every other time, it was a dream. He wasn't going to be stabbed to death in some bathroom he'd never even seen. Just like his mother told him years ago, he'd be alright.

The man that had insulted and screamed at his stepson was gone. It was peaceful now. The stinging smell of beer was replaced by the ever familiar scent of sage. The moonlight drifted through the windows, illuminating the couple. It was like the gods themselves were trying to comfort Hagakure.

The light sound of traffic sounded outside their bedroom window. With time, the soothsayer even heard a bit of rain, coming in loud waves. If the sky continued to pour, perhaps he could stay huddled with his lover the rest of the day. That would be a dream come true.

The gentle, ever familiar sounds slowly drowned the remains of anxiety. When he shut his eyes, he felt his lover wiggle against him. Unfazed, he nuzzled further into the broad, freckled shoulders of his beloved. As his thoughts turned fuzzy, a voice shot through the lazy fog.

"Can you turn around so I can hold you, Hiro?" Leon whispered to his face, "I love you, but this isn't gonna be comfy very long." The dreadlocks bobbed as he nodded. Feeling Leon nestle into his neck after he'd turned around was a blessing.

Perhaps his prayers had worked. The chatter of the clock slowly left his mind, replaced by the sounds of punk rock snores. The muscular arms around his torso were comfortable. He was comfortable.

His mind, slowly drifting into dreams, envisioned blurry faces grinning at him from beyond the waking veil. At last, he could rest. His subconscious was ready to rest at last. With a final sigh, he was peacefully unconscious.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a while now, and really wanted to jot it down before it got away from me. I might turn this into a series of fics where Hiro has murder dreams, but I'm still not 100% sure.There's definitely some pacing issues, but I write for fun. I enjoyed writing this, at least a bit, and I hope you did too!
> 
> This post was made by lemonycricket1 on Twitter.


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